It's all RocksinMyDryer's fault. I was experiencing a fulfilling television-viewing lifestyle until she came along. I was content in my Lost-less world. I had avoided getting caught up. Until a few weeks ago. And it's all RocksinMyDryer's fault.
See, here's the thing. Whenever something goes supernova popular, I feel this uncanny need to be counter-culture. For example, I do not watch American Idol (collective internet gasp). I don't care who the Bachelor or Bachlorette is. I don't do CSI, SITC, or SNL. I do some old school Star Trek and I watch my share of History Channel and I do think Alton Brown is pretty darn adorable, but all those other shows--yawn. Writer's strike? What writer's strike?
It wasn't enough that my brother was hooked on Lost. It wasn't enough that my BFF J was addicted. I would listen to their proclamations of "The best show ever!" and "I can't believe you're not watching this show!" with a sidelong glance of superiority in my ability to avoid the opiate of the masses. I had other things to do, thank you, like laundry and laundry and ....laundry.
She was so excited about the Season 4 finale. She often made Lost references in her posts. She made it seem so hip, so now, so....noble. Her blog is funny and cool and current--ergo, if I want to be funny, cool and current, perhaps I should review my viewing habits.
It seemed like Fate (Lost reference) when I saw the entire first season of Lost on my local library's DVD shelf. I brought it home, eyed it with skepticism and took it back the next week, unwatched. But then, when I returned to the library again, it was still there, calling to me. I took it home, viewed the first episode, and well.....what can I say? I fell Lost in love.
It's all RocksinMyDryer's fault, the undone laundry, the ignored bedtimes, the discovery of free streaming HD episodes on abc.com. I have gulped Lost in the last few weeks--I've burned through the first three seasons and have emerged bleary-eyed and extremely concerned about Jack. I'm hoping that Rose has really been cured. I know they tried to prepare me about Charlie, but still. I have a whole new universe of people to fret over now and I'm not even through the fourth season. I'm telling myself that Scripture references make the show almost, um, like a parable of sorts. I won't even tell my husband what episode I'm really on, kind of like hiding illegal substances in religious iconography (Lost reference). There's now a little place in my head that rolls over the plots and symbolism and imagery and allegories. It's the little place in my head that used to hold the week's meal planning and menu details.
It's all RocksinMyDryer's fault.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on Claire and the baby.